


A Painful Way to Reunite -drabble

by MissieMoose



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Mythology, Original Work
Genre: Drabble, Dragons, Fantasy, Gen, Minotaur - Freeform, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology - Freeform, Original Fiction, Shapeshifter, Urban Fantasy, Warlock - Freeform, Witch - Freeform, gorgon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:57:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6855664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissieMoose/pseuds/MissieMoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a drabble I wrote since I've been feeling like crap about my fanfictions. Anyway, it's from an as-yet-unwritten story I have involving lots of mythical/supernatural creatures and whatnot. This one involves brothers reuniting in a not-so-pleasant fashion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Painful Way to Reunite -drabble

“Will you put that thing out?”

“Why?”

“It could give you cancer or something.”

Bair cocked her brow as took a long drag from her cigarette. “You…do realize you’re talkin’ to someone who literally can _not_ get cancer, aye?” she questioned of her partner.

Viðar shifted, glancing disgustedly at the glowing ember at the end of her cigarette. “You don’t know that for sure. Your mother is a witch and witches are human. Humans get cancer.” He looked away, staring at the decrepit building across the street.

Blowing a lungful of smoke downwards, away from him, she dropped the cigarette on the ground and used the heel of her boot to extinguish it. “The fae in me won’t let it. Anyway, ya could have just said you didn’t like being around cigarette smoke.”

“The last time I said that to someone, they got all uppity and defensive. I figured being offensive would work better.”

“Well, it didn’t. You’re not the offensive sort.” She smirked at him. “Do I really seem the type t’ act like that, anyway?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No,” he admitted. “I guess I’m just…”

“Nervous?” He nodded. “You have every right t’ be. Not only is this your first time in the field, but the Council thought it was a good idea t’ stick you with _me_ o’ all shieldmaidens.” She let out a small laugh, instinctively reaching for the pack of cigarettes in her pocket, but stopped herself. Viðar knew she only smoked when she was nervous, but he still didn’t like it. “Bad idea on their part, especially with a mission like this. Just the two o’ us against numerous creatures an’ with no idea how many o’ them are truly loyal t’ this warlock?” She shook her head. “What was the Council thinkin’?”

“You act like you’re not the Council’s favorite and they have no faith in you,” he commented.

Bair glimpsed up at him, a dark look passing over her face. “Don’t say that.” As she turned, looking at the building, Viðar watched as all traces of her femininity faded from her face, being replaced by androgynous features. The curve of her hips disappeared and her breasts shrank, completing the genderless look.

“We go in from the front –like we’re there t’ see the show,” she explained, her voice now deeper as well. “When I was here last week, there was a minotaur for a bouncer. He only takes cash or gold. Nothin’ else. Once we get past him, there’re three paths: Left takes ya t’ the loo, straight on takes ya t’ the show, an’ downstairs takes us where we need t’ go.”

“And just how are we going to get downstairs? I’m fairly certain they’ll have that area blocked off to patrons.”

She smirked, though didn’t look at him. “That’s the fun part,” she replied. “No doubt there will be enchantments blocking our path, but that’s why the Council stuck you with me.”

He let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair again. “I’m a librarian, not a spell breaker. What do they expect me to do? Read a book to put something to sleep?”

Bair laughed. “Says the one who used t’ be head o’ the Dispelling Squad,” she teased. “You’re a bloody _dragon_ , not Doctor McCoy. They expect you to do your old job for one day.”

He frowned. “Did you just make a ‘Star Trek’ joke at me while also scolding me for being sarcastic?”

“Possibly.” She stepped out of the alleyway and, after looking both directions, started to cross the street.

Wordlessly, Viðar followed after her. As he trailed behind her, he looked around the area. It was fairly typical for a warehouse district: Large, metal buildings that took up an entire block or more lined the streets as far as the eye could see; heavy pieces of machinery were being driven on the road alongside cars; and seagulls flocked around the nearby docks, trying to steal food from the shipments of seafood.

He knew well enough Bair could see and hear all of this, but what she couldn’t bear witness to were the multitudes of smells that flooded his nose. Everything from machine oil to sweat to even Bair’s deodorant filled his nose, but there was one scent in particular that stood out from the rest:

The scent of magic.

The building they approached absolutely _reeked_ of the stuff, letting him know that its decrepit exterior was hiding something fantastic. Bair lightly kicked open the sagging door before entering; Viðar had to duck in order to avoid hitting his head. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light inside the building, his nose picked up a new smell: Bovine.

‘The bouncer,’ he thought, blinking a few times.

And there, in fact, stood the bouncer: A minotaur nearly eight feet tall with his massive arms crossed over his chest, his entire body blocking a small doorway just ahead of them. Beside him was an old wooden desk, two of its legs broken, and an ancient-looking swivel chair behind it. Judging by how the chair was still spinning, they knew the minotaur had been sitting just seconds prior to their arrival.

“You’re _late_ ,” he told them. “The show’s already started.”

“Had to have a last cigarette before we came in,” Bair shrugged, grinning.

“Late comers aren’t allowed.”

Reaching into her pocket, Bair pulled out a wad of money. She idly flipped through it before pulling out about five bills –five hundred pounds, Viðar guessed. “Let us in and this’ll be all yours on _top_ o’ the admission fee. This much can get ya one o’ the ladies from the La Femme en Rouge.” She winked, smirking. “Trust me –they’ll give ya a night you’ll _never_ forget, they’re so good.”

The minotaur raised his brow, though he didn’t argue. Reaching out, he plucked the money from her hands. When she pulled out more cash –the admission fee-, he took that as well. Then, he handed them both a bundle of cloth before stepping aside and letting them pass through the doorway.

“Please tell me you don’t actually know how good they are,” Viðar whispered in her ear.

Bair’s smirk remained on her face. “I dated Luna for two years, remember?” She motioned at the hallway in front of them. “We got t’ put these on, by the way. Otherwise we’ll stick out like sore thumbs.”

Unfolding the bundle, Viðar found that they had been handed large, billowy cloaks and masks to hide their appearances. Also in the bundle was a small auction paddle with the number ‘29’ on it.

“Huh. Was thirteen last time,” Bair quietly chuckled, seeing the ‘30’ on her paddle. Once they were properly disguised, she nodded towards the end of the hall before them. “That way.”

As they approached a doorway at the end of the hall, they could hear gentle, 1920s-era music coming from the other side of the heavy, black curtains blocking their path. Bair held a finger to her lips before stepping through the curtains. Staying as quiet as possible, Viðar also passed through the drapes.

They were met by the sight of three rows of exquisite chairs and their occupants. All but two of the chairs were filled and all the room’s occupants were clad as Bair and Viðar now were –in black cloaks with masks covering their faces.

At the very front of the room, though, there was a stage with a single spotlight fixed on a handsome young woman. She was dressed in fine clothes and spoke softly into a microphone; her eyes, though, were completely glazed over as if she were in a trance. Behind her was a caged creature –Viðar recognized it as a kappa. The people in the room whispered amongst themselves as the woman described the kappa and how it was an ‘exotic creature of the Orient’.

Bair moved to sit in one of the two empty chairs, Viðar copying her. He leaned over, a brow raised.

“I thought we were going to-”

She interrupted him. “We will –but later. We don’t want t’ draw too much attention to ourselves just yet.”

He frowned, though she was unable to see it. “I don’t like having to wait, especially when innocent and sentient beings are auctioned off before our eyes.”

“Kappas are far from innocent,” she reminded him, “but I know what ya mean. Don’t worry –they’ll still be here by the time we’re done.”

As she spoke, she scoured the room with her eyes. It wasn’t at all different from when she had been here last week –the walls had obvious signs of water damage and the plaster was cracked and flaking. The floor was uneven and missing some tiles and the ceiling sagged in the middle. The only thing different was the auctioneer’s outfit and her audience.

The kappa was soon sold off to a shorter figure for a sum of half a million pounds –a cheap price for such a creature, but it was hard for them to survive in the colder British climates. Bair supposed the kappa’s temporary owner had plans to use its body parts in potions rather than keep it alive.

Brought on stage next was a creature unfamiliar to Viðar. It was a medium-sized creature with the head of a hare, but human ears. Its torso was emaciated, resembling a skeleton, though all four of its legs had some meat to them; the front legs appeared to belong to a badger while the back legs were better suited to a bear.

“Rompo,” Bair whispered to him. “It’s an Indian creature. Eats only human corpses.”

He shuddered at the thought. “Lovely.”

“It also makes a pleasing crooning sound as it eats.”

Viðar cocked his brow as he glanced over at her; the mask prevented him from seeing her expression. “Are you serious…?”

Bair remained silent as the auctioneer explained the rompo in more a more eloquent, but similar, way she had done. Viðar was thankful for the mask, because he stuck his tongue out in disgust. What horrified him more was when Bair raised her paddle once bidding started.

“Don’t give me that look. It’s not _my_ money I’m spending,” she lightly joked, resting her arm on the back of her chair.

He rolled his eyes, but was pleased to see her give up bidding after the price went over a million pounds. A quiet sigh left his mouth as he decided he should soon do the same as Bair, though the next creature –a Vodoun Zombie- wasn’t exactly something he thought he should bid on. The fourth being, however, struck his interest. It wasn’t something as rare as the previous creatures, but it was definitely amusing to him.

“A Will-O’-the-Wisp?” he whispered.

“More than likely it’s had somethin’ done t’ it. This is an incredibly strong warlock we’re dealin’ with, after all.”

Nodding in understanding, he raised his paddle as the bidding began. He let himself go farther than Bair in the bidding, conceding defeat only at the very end. As the Will-O’-the-Wisp was rolled off stage and yet another cage was dragged into its place, he felt Bair nudge him. Not looking at her, he leaned over.

“Follow me in two minutes,” she ordered before slowly getting up. So far away from the spotlight, the dark cloak and mask she wore blended in with the shadows. She left the room, the heavy curtains barely making a noise as she passed through them. Taking an immediate right, she pretended to follow the signs leading to the bathroom, but when it came time for the hallway to diverge once more, she continued straight, heading for a pair of large, sliding metal door.

Unlike the rest of the building, they were in good condition and covered in magic runes. Across from then was a smaller pair of wooden double-doors. Knowing neither would open for a few minutes yet, she shed the cloak and mask, kicking both out of her way as she pressed her ear against one of the wooden doors. Beyond it, she could just barely make out the sounds of shifting weight on creaky floorboards, though they stayed some distance away.

“I take it we need to get through the metal ones?” Viðar approached, removing his mask.

She nodded. “If you’d do the honors,” she replied, motioning to them.

Viðar pressed his hand against the doors, his brow rising in amusement as small bolts of blue lightning shot out of the metal, crawling up his arm and leaving a thick layer of ice wherever they touched.

“I can see why you brought me now,” he chuckled, the lightning continuing to shoot up his arm and along his shoulder. Before it could reach his face, however, he pulled his hand back and flexed, the ice shattering.

An impressed smirk came to Bair’s face as she watched him dig his claws between the two doors and began to pry them open. Ignoring the bolts of ice-lightning, Viðar let out a grunt when the doors finally pushed open far enough for them to squeeze through.

“Thank you,” Bair chirped, ducking under his arm.

“My pleasure,” he grumbled, following after her. He did his best to make the doors quietly slide closed, but a metallic thud still rang out. He followed Bair as she hurried down a staircase. “Now what?”

She smirked again, glancing over her shoulder. “I told ya before: This is the fun part.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t give me any clues as to what’s going on!”

“Stay quiet an’ follow my lead.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, Odo.”

She paused, her brow rising. “Now who’s makin’ the Trek references, eh?” she grinned. Peering over the edge of the bannister, she let out a small curse –there was someone at the bottom of the stairs and they had spotted them.

Before they could let out any noise, however, Bair hopped over the railing and, as she collided with the being, she slammed her hand over their mouth. They both fell to the ground, Bair using her momentum and position to make the person’s head hit the ground hard enough to knock them out. She looked up, wanting to be sure no one else saw them and she was in luck.

“Drag her behind those boxes,” she whispered to Viðar as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Before he could reply, she got to her feet and made her way into the area ahead of them.

All sorts of cages and tanks were scattered about the warehouse-sized room, ninety-percent of them covered by heavy cloth to keep their occupants calm. Where there weren’t cages or tanks, there were all sizes of crates and trunks. A strange smell hung in the air –somewhat dusty, yet floral- and she felt her nose begin to itch. Wiggling it, she looked over her shoulder to Viðar.

“I need your pocket kerchief.”

His brows furrowed, but he pulled it from his vest. “Why? What’s wrong?”

She quietly blew her nose. “I’ll wash it before I give it back, promise.”

Shaking his head, he sighed, but wore a smile. “This is why I always tell you to pack your own.”

She shushed them as they heard movement up ahead. Ducking behind a stack of crates, Bair peeked around the corner in time to see the shape of a gorgon in the distance. They were carrying a small box or cage –she couldn’t tell- as they slithered their way towards the staircase.

“We don’t have much time,” she murmured. “We need to split up to find this guy.”

“Splitting up is-”

“-The worst thing we could do. I know. But we need to. Both of us have a Binder, so one of us can—”

She was abruptly cut off as a large figure came from seemingly nowhere and tackled her. Viðar let out a cry of surprise as he watched them crash through the pile beside them; how hadn’t he heard the creature?! He darted forward, throwing aside crates and trunks in an attempt to unbury the two, but he didn’t get far. Whoever had tackled Bair came flying, backwards, out of the pile and into one of the cages. The creature inside let out a horrible shriek.

“Oh, shut up you old bat,” the person snapped.

The creature in the cage, however, did not shut up.

Bair grunted as she emerged from the debris, her left arm bleeding from a large gash and her lip split open. There was a challenging smirk on her face as she stared at the being in front of them. For the most part, he looked like a man, but Viðar instantly recognized him as something more.

Before he could warn Bair, though, she launched herself at him. The man met her halfway and they fell to the ground in a wrestling match.

“Find him!” Bair snapped as she slammed the heel of her palm against the man’s jaw. The man grunted, but didn’t seem too phased by the attack.

Knowing better to argue, he ran off, intent on finding the warlock.

Bair cursed as the man grabbed her hair –short as it was- and held her head up as he punched her. For a few seconds, stars filled her vision and she went somewhat limp.

“This is what the Council sends? A man who can’t even take two punches?” he sneered, standing up. Grabbing the neck of her shirt, he pulled her up, easily holding her off the ground. “They must not be all they’re cracked up to be.”

“That’s what ya think.”

Grinning, she grabbed hold of his wrist with both hands and used both legs to kick him in the gut. She fell to the ground as he let go, doubling over. Wiping some blood from her face, she drew a knife from her belt and made to stab him, but he grabbed her arm and twisted it, forcing her to turn around if she didn’t want it to break.

With one arm, the man pinned her against him while the other grabbed at her throat. He grunted in mild pain as she stamped on his foot, but he kept his grip on her. The hand around her throat kept squeezing, trying to make her esophagus collapse, but for some reason, it refused to do so.

And then, suddenly, he was gripping at air and there was a pile of clothes at his feet.

“What the-?!”

The clothes shifted and, once more, there was a person in them. Bair gave him a playful wave as she laid on the floor before ramming her fist upwards, making contact between his legs.

The man cringed and grabbed at his crotch, though it wasn’t quite the reaction Bair had been hoping for. Regardless, it was enough of a response to let her get to her feet and start running.

‘Why didn’t that work?’ she thought, grabbing hold of a cage and using it to help swing her around a corner. ‘That _always_ works on males, especially when I punch them _that_ hard! …Maybe they just look male? That’s probably it…’

She let out a curse and skidded to a halt, finding the gorgon blocking her path. “Ah shit…”

The gorgon rushed at her, but Bair flung herself forward, narrowly missing being caught. She swore as she tumbled into a cage; a loud squawk came from behind the curtain before flames ripped through the cloth and making Bair swear in surprise.

“Huh. Thought those were extinct,” she couldn’t help but mumble, her eyes wide in awe. She hissed as she was picked up and slammed against the cage by the gorgon; she felt the intense heat as the firebird spewed its flames again and her shoulder seared in pain.

“Time to die, trespasser,” the gorgon snarled, forcing Bair to look her in the eye. She had her thin lips pulled back in a sneer as her yellow eyes –clouded over like the auctioneer’s- fixed on Bair.

But Bair, knowing what was coming, had reached for something in her pocket. She quickly held up the item between her face and the gorgon’s, smirking as the other woman cried out in pain and surprise.

“Knew I brought this for a reason,” she murmured, pocketing the shiny, silver flask once more. As she was let go, she grabbed hold of the gorgon’s head and slammed it against one of the many trunks. She was thankful for the thick, leather gloves she wore, even if they were fingerless –about half the snakes atop the gorgon’s head had started biting at her, though they fell limp when she fell unconscious.

Her relief didn’t last long. Wiping a bit more blood from her face, she glanced around only to see the man from earlier running around a corner. She swallowed hard before running in the opposite direction.

It led her to a dead end.

Peeking over her shoulder, she found that the man hadn’t caught up yet, so she started climbing up one of the stacks of crates. As she climbed, she forced her mind to calm itself and began murmuring something under her breath. It was no surprise to her when, as she neared the top of the stack, her ankle was grabbed and she was dragged back down.

It was certainly a surprise to the man when an intensely bright light suddenly blinded him. He stumbled back, blinking furiously in an attempt to make the stars in his vision disappear.

“What the fuck _are_ you?” he snapped, rubbing his eyes. He swore again as Bair knocked his feet out from under him and he fell back.

She grabbed his wrists and, having to use quite a bit of strength, she forced him to roll over onto his stomach. “That’s none of your business, boyo,” she grunted. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a length of thin, silver chain –no thicker than a necklace but much longer- and started to wrap it around his wrists.

But she had made a mistake. He was much stronger than her and so, with ease, he was able to flip them over, pinning Bair to the ground with his back. Snapping his head back, he felt it collide with her face and heard the thud as her skull smacked against the concrete. Twisting himself around, he sat over her, grunting as he strained against the chain. To his luck, Bair had yet to secure it, so with some effort, he was able to loosen it and slide his wrists free.

“Mithril, huh?” he chuckled, grabbing Bair’s hair. She grabbed at his wrist with one hand, the other trying to punch his face, but he easily ducked out of the way. “At least you’ll die in grandeur.” Taking the chain in his free hand, he looped it around her neck.

“Don’t you dare, Hákan Gall.”

The man suddenly froze, his eyes wide, but his brows furrowed. Still holding the chain, but not tightening it, he looked over his shoulder only to see Viðar standing a few yards away, an old man slung over his shoulder. “How do you know that name?” he hissed.

Using the distraction to her advantage, Bair smacked his hand away from her head and yanked the chain out of his grip. She quickly wrapped the chain around her hand as his snarled, his attention back on her. Blowing a raspberry at him, Bair slammed her fist into his face.

As he fell backwards, off of her, Bair got to her feet. She wobbled for a moment, but got herself steadied and was about to reach for something inside her jacket. She was halted, however, by Viðar dropping the old man on the ground and going over to the man on the floor.

With ease, he lifted him into the air, his eyes narrowed. “Your name _is_ Hákan Gall, correct?” he questioned.

“Why should I tell _you?_ ” he hissed.

Viðar growled, frost billowing out of his nose. “Tell me!” he snapped.

The man blinked, taken aback by Viðar’s reaction.

Bair walked over, spitting some blood onto the ground. “Ya can do this later,” she told him. “The Council will surely interrogate-”

“No!” he barked, not seeing as she flinched. “I _need_ to know. Are you Hákan Gall or not?!”

“Fine! Yes, I’m Hákan Gall,” he snarled. “What does it even matter to you!?”

Taking both Bair and Hákan by surprise, Viðar set him on his feet. His jaw quivering, the others watched as his human appearance faded somewhat, revealing icy blue-and-silver scales around the edges of his hairline and his jaw. Two ice-blue horns sprouted from his temples and his eyes became entirely blue, save for the green irises.

“It matters to me because you’re my brother,” he quietly stated. “Hákan, it’s me, Viðar. Your twin.”


End file.
